Slow Burn
by Sententiae
Summary: Kosuke has no idea what he is doing. Eric is damaged, brittle, untamed, and the most beautiful person Kosuke has ever met. But he is also damaged. Brittle. Untamed.


**Notes:** First K fic. This was for a challenge square at Hurt/Comfort bingo over on Live Journal, and mentions non-con and abuse.

**Summary: **Kosuke has no idea what he is doing. Eric is damaged, brittle, untamed, and the most beautiful person Kosuke has ever met. But he is also damaged. Brittle. Untamed.

* * *

**Slow Burn**

* * *

Sometimes, Kosuke is sure he's screwing everything up.

It's only been three months since he brought Eric into his life, a skittish boy with scars that Kosuke thinks he's only beginning to understand. Eric loses some of his edge, jumping less and smiling more, but then Kosuke says something – does something – and Eric retreats backwards into his past.

Sometimes, sometimes Eric disappears, only turning up days later with different bruises and haunted eyes, brushing past Kosuke with a snarl. Kosuke thinks he should be angry, or concerned, or frustrated, but all he feels is a soul crushing relief that Eric knows he still has a home.

And sometimes, Kosuke thinks he's maybe doing things a little right.

Six months of pleading, cajoling, and just a touch of blackmail pays off when Eric begrudgingly joins the baseball team. He sits on the side-lines at first, looking impossibly disinterested. Within the first week Kosuke has to break up four fights, as Eric's analysis of some of the players isn't exactly great for team building. Eric joins in eventually, hiding under his cap out in the outfield. Most of the time, Eric throws back the ball if it comes in his direction, but sometimes Eric will just let it roll past with a bored shrug of his shoulders. Kosuke is the only one who catches the amused little smile that creeps onto Eric's lips as Yata streaks past, cursing as he chases down the ball in Eric's stead.

When the weather gets so warm that practice starts creeping later into the evening, Eric even rolls his long sleeves hesitantly up to his elbows. They all know better than to say anything, but Kosuke thinks enough is still said. He sees it in the way Totsuka's smile saddens and Suoh's eyes blaze. He catches it in how angrily Yata swings at each pitch, missing the ball every time.

Kosuke feels it, so deep inside his gut that it twists into something he can't quite explain. All Kosuke knows is that he wants to replace every scar with a new memory, each one brighter than the one that passed before it.

He wants to kill them all for what they have done. It's not a feeling that sits naturally with Kosuke, who generally sees violence as a means and not an end. Most of the time Kosuke can only guess the horrors Eric endured through the mementoes his 'owners' left carved in Eric's skin, or through the odd sheen that shines in Eric's eyes when they do something wrong, or say something wrong, or do nothing at all.

Sometimes, Eric tells him. Not often, because Eric is still finding himself and words tend to complicate things, but there are moments when they are the last ones in the bar and Eric talks to him quietly on hitched breaths and through broken sentences. He tells of the beatings, of the ropes and knives and the sick delight his owners got out of his never-ending destruction.

When they are caught beneath the mistletoe at Christmas after everyone has gone to bed, Eric tells him why his hands are trembling as they cup Kosuke's face, why his eyes are nothing but glass because the emotion and hurt is buried too deep. Eric tells then of hands and mouths and bodies and begging for someone, anyone to save him because it _hurts_ so much-

Kosuke wants to kill them all for what they have done.

Eric kisses Kosuke anyway, because sometimes the past is something to overcome and not a wall to be forever trapped behind. He lets Kosuke press his mouth against those scars that ruin long, pale arms, claiming them back as something beautiful, sensual. Eric watches wide-eyed as Kosuke's mouth moves up, capturing the blade tears that skim up his forearm, peppers kisses down the cigarette burns that start at his shoulder and cascade down everywhere.

There are scars elsewhere, Kosuke knows. But on this night, these ones are enough.

Because sometimes, Kosuke is terrified of pushing Eric too far. Eric is flighty and dramatic and just a little bit broken, and he snaps at little things with a brittle impatience that refuses to bow down to common sense.

Kosuke thinks he is beautiful, untamed.

Eric thinks Kosuke is nuts, and he lets Kosuke know it. He doesn't understand concepts such as space and choice in the same way Kosuke does, getting frustrated when Kosuke tries to gift them back to him.

Sometimes, Eric storms out in a huff, so childish that it leaves Kosuke open-mouthed and the others smirking at their dysfunction. Kosuke doesn't know what it is he has done wrong, beyond refusing to be one of those people who controlled Eric for so long. But sometimes, Eric stays. And those moments, when Eric relaxes against him on one of the couches without a thought of there maybe being consequences, are perfect.

Sometimes, Kosuke thinks of no-one else. And then Eric smiles. Or scowls. Or rolls his eyes and gives Kosuke the cold shoulder for days on end.

"You're giving me that look again," Eric says defensively.

Kosuke starts, waving his right hand in front of his face as he tries to dispel whatever it is that has so offended Eric.

"Which look?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"That soppy look," Eric says with a roll of his eyes. "It's all mushy and stupid." Amber eyes dart back down to their drink.

Huh. Weird.

"Do I do it often?" he asks, bringing his fingers up to his lips.

A tiny smile curls at Eric's mouth, although he doesn't look up.

Kosuke, on the other hand, can't look away.

"Sometimes."


End file.
